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He took the bottle, his hand folding around my hand on it. We stood level to level, eye to eye despite him having a few inches. The dark prince was tall, but I was tall too.
He tugged me closer by the bottle, his fingers squeezing mine.
“I want to get a hit in,” he breathed over my mouth. I felt the mint of his breath despite how much booze he drank. He just always seemed to have it.
He let go of me slowly, taking the bottle with him.
His football arm gave him an advantage.
Dorian threw that bottle so hard one of the glass walls busted out, and the house alarm blasted through the air.
He didn’t care.
He got another bottle, empty this time and threw the thing steadfast through another window on the door. The rest of the empty bottles joined it, glass exploding everywhere, and when he didn’t have those, he went for the rock work around the hedges.
He threw large stones, his own personal form of a football pelting through glass. Windows exploded, property damaged. Dorian’s expression transformed into a million different shades of unfurled rage, and I simply stood there, watching the display.
I should be horrified by what I’d done, by what I’d caused him to do. I mean, someone was probably coming from somewhere eventually with that alarm going off. It’d probably take a moment since this neighborhood was out in the boonies, but still.
I didn’t run despite the chaos. I wasn’t horrified. I merely watched as a tortured boy let out his anger in the only way he could.
Dorian threw until he was spent. Until his body sagged and labored so harshly I thought he’d fall to his knees. That was when I approached him.
That was also when he grabbed me.
Dorian gripped the back of my neck and collided our mouths, the kiss harsh and angry.
And so familiar.
He kissed me the same way he had the first time. The kiss was impulsive, untamed.
Wild.
It was like him, my arms ensnared around his neck. I deepened the kiss as he pressed my body against him.
Sirens rang in our ears.
The cops were coming from somewhere in the hills, but we didn’t react how a normal person would. Sure, we ran. Dorian grabbed my hand. He dragged me to his car, but the whole time, he laughed.
We both did.
We looked like two crazy people getting into his car. He waved me to hurry, his laughter boisterous and jovial. He laughed like he wasn’t a broken boy, but a teenager who simply didn’t want to get caught.
I was simply the girl going along for the ride.
He had his arm around my neck, as he peeled off, and his laughter didn’t stop. I didn’t ask him where we were going.
I didn’t care.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dorian
I slammed my cock inside her the moment we were in her bedroom, the closet place I could think of to fuck this girl.
She hadn’t complained.
Sloane proved once again to be the complete and utter head fuck she’d always been, but this time, I didn’t fight it.
